He visto un aguilucho volar sobre mi cabeza

Notes on a train while an eaglet flies over my head, archive photos of the cheapest film they sell at photocassion. Notes from friends, from the little sun that hits your face at half past nine at night in summer, from being 22 years old, from reading Sara Torres and Marta D. Riezu, notes from my trip to Graná. Photos of Graná, of my friends, of being 22 years old. I don't know if I got anything clear, the train arrived in Cáceres, yes. And the eaglet flew over my head.